Let them cast
In moulds and memory
The wasted breath
What belongs here, is
Not of here but
To things there
All courses of Suns
Do with light and joy
So I rise, flapping there
Let them harp
The string and music
To past and present
What playeth here
Cometh bursting
In time desire
All wakeful days
Surge thy greatness
So I come, blazing thy light
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